


He Lives in You

by gingerink



Series: It Starts With a Wish [1]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Disney, Alternate Universe - The Lion King Fusion, Angst, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Parent Death, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-16 01:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5807812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingerink/pseuds/gingerink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos is presumed to take over his father Fernando's position as king. However, Mark wants a taste of royalty for himself and sets out to scupper the young prince's hopes.</p><p>(Or essentially, a Lion King AU of sorts.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Lives in You

**Author's Note:**

> A Disney F1 series is something that I've wanted to do for ages and I'm super excited about it! This is the first one in hopefully what will be a series of many. The only thing I can advise is to take these stories with a pinch of salt as obviously, it is reality meshing with fantasy.
> 
> Just a warning for someone getting run over by a car but I think the rest of it has been toned down somewhat.
> 
> Enjoy! :)

The sun rose over the hills, brushing its golden fingers over the green grass. Fernando looks out over the hills before him, at the tarmac brushing its way through the hills, at the chicanes and the corners curving over the landscape. He lets the slight breeze curl over his face, the sun slowly climbing in the sapphire sky, over his kingdom, over the circuit of Barcelona. He allows his brown eyes to close for a moment, takes in the surroundings, allows the sun to slowly dance over his skin, slowly warming it.  
  
There’s a warm hand at his elbow. “It’s time,” Somebody whispers to him and he feels the smile curl over his lips.

* * *

  
  
Fernando feels his smile cling to his face as he finally meets his newborn son for the first time. Jenson stands at the side of him, eyes wet with tears as Fernando glances down at the swathed bundle – at the dark eyelashes, at the mop of jet black hair on his head, at the tiny nose – Fernando watches his son sleep on, unaware of his own importance. The newborn stirs ever so slightly – his tiny golden fingers closing around his father’s fingers. Fernando smiles and presses a small kiss to the sleeping baby’s forehead.  
  
“Carlos, my principe,” He whispers.  
  
Fernando turns to glance over at the circuit, the tarmac still lit by the golden fingers of the sun. “All this will be yours one day, my son,”  
  
Carlos sleeps on, safe in his father’s arms.

* * *

  
  
However, one person doesn’t welcome the news of the new arrival with so much joy. He sits alone in one of his dirty, old garages, his fingers skimming over an oily wrench as he tries to ignore the celebrations in the distance. He’s heard the news – who hasn’t – of Fernando finally having a son with his partner, a son who it is hoped will carry on the Alonso racing dynasty for years to come.  
  
“Life isn’t fair, is it?” He says, seemingly to himself as he glances at his face in the shiny surface of the wrench. “This wrench has more of a chance of being with Fernando than I do,”  
  
A small cough cuts off his thoughts. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to hold conversations with inanimate objects?” Sebastian is leaning up against the wall of the Red Bull garage, with a raised eyebrow as he glances at his teammate.  
  
Mark sighs heavily. “What do you want? Want to ask me to polish your trophy?”  
  
Sebastian shakes his head. “Fernando wants to speak to you, he wants you to meet Carlos,”  
  
“Well, I have no desire to meet that little brat of his,” Mark sneers, throwing down the wrench as he feels the anger bubble up inside him.  
  
“Well, that is certainly a shame,” Fernando’s voice suddenly fills the garage. Mark feels his shoulders stiffen as he watches the Spaniard step forward into the garage, holding a small bundle in his arms. Mark feels the anger twist over him at the sheer sight of the newborn, of Carlitos – the sole reminder of why he and Fernando can be no more. “My little principe was looking forward to meeting his uncle,”  
  
“We’re not related, _your majesty_ ,” Mark snaps. “What are you doing here anyway? Decided that the garages of Ferrari were too stuffy for yourself and you thought you’d descend down to Red Bull?”  
  
Fernando doesn’t respond to Mark’s taunts. “Jenson and I invited you to Carlos’s christening, you never replied to the invitation,”  
  
“Oh, sorry that I didn’t drop everything immediately to attend the christening of your little brat, Fernando,” Mark says, examining his own fingernails with boredom.  
  
“Don’t insult my son, Mark,” Fernando snarls, still holding onto the sleeping Carlos, his eyes dark with anger. “You’re not worth my time, when will you understand that it’s over between us? I’m happy now, why can’t you be happy for me?”  
  
“Well, as you said, I’m not worth your time, _your highness_ ,” Mark chides. “I’ll start practising my curtsey for your little brat,” He pushes back his chair and begins to leave.  
  
“Don’t turn your back on me, Mark,” Fernando snarls.  
  
“Maybe it’s you who shouldn’t turn your back on me, Fernando,” He steps forward and glances down at the sleeping Carlos. “He’s beautiful, looks just like his father,” He notices Fernando’s hand tighten around the sleeping baby boy and his jaw square as his eyes fix on Mark.  
  
“You do well to remember that, Fernando,” Mark says as he walks out of the garage. Fernando watches him leave before he turns back to Sebastian with a grave face.  
  
“Don’t worry about him, Nando. There’s always one who isn’t happy with the arrangements,” Sebastian says, glancing down at the sleeping Carlos.  
  
“What am I going to do with him?” Fernando sighs.  
  
“Well, aside from making him the number two driver, the only thing you can do is forget everything, go home to Jenson and spend time with your son,” Sebastian advises.  
  
“I guess you’re right, Seb,” Fernando says, smiling as Carlos begins to stir in his arms. “I better get this cub home,”  
  
“I’m always right,” Sebastian replies, grinning.

* * *

  
  
A few years pass – Carlos grows from a newborn into a toddler, his tufts of hair thicken into a mop of unruly, jet black hair, identical to his fathers. His baby blue eyes soon melt into caramel brown. He begins to walk and talk (his first word is of course, Dada). The paddock soon becomes familiar with the tiny little boy who accompanies Fernando and Jenson to every race, the little boy who proudly walks around in his Ferrari shirt and his toy lion, toddling over the tarmac on his chubby legs, held by his father as he traipses down the pit lane wearing his mirrored sunglasses.  
  
Fernando is fast asleep, tangled in the sheets, resting against Jenson’s chest when he feels something slip underneath the covers giggling quietly. He opens one eye and groans slightly under his breath as he feels his son’s soft hair brush against his chest.  
  
“Papa?” Carlos says, quietly. Fernando feels a finger poke his cheek. “Papa? Wake up!”  
  
Jenson groans at the sound of their son’s voice. “Your son is awake,” He says gently, his voice still heavily with sleep.  
  
“Before sunrise, Jense, he’s your son,” Fernando says quietly, as he glances at the window, still darkened by the night.  
  
“Papa,” Carlos wheedles, squirming against his father. “You promised that you’d take me today,”  
  
Fernando opens one eye and sees his son’s smiling face above him – his smile just like Jenson’s and he feels all the resistance melt away. “Okay, okay, I’m up, principe,”  
  
Carlos cheers as his father scoops him up into his arms and giggles when he blows a raspberry against his dark hair.

* * *

  
  
Fernando stands, glancing over the horizon, over the grey curves of the Spa-Francochamps race circuit. “Everything that the sun touches is our kingdom, Carlitos,” He says quietly, closing his eyes for a moment and taking in the scent of the motor oil still hanging in the air. “A king’s reign rises and falls like the sun before us. One day, principe, the sun will set on my time here and it will rise with you as the new king of racing,”  
  
“And this will be mine?” Carlos whispers, glancing over the circuit.  
  
“Everything the light touches, whenever you are in a car, it will belong to you,” Fernando tells his son.  
  
Carlos glances over the horizon, over the rolling green hills, before his eyes land on a darkened corner. “What about that shadowy place?”  
  
“That is Eau Rouge. You must promise me never to go there, Carlos. That is not within our borders, it’s a dangerous place,” Fernando says, stroking over his son’s dark hair.  
  
“But I thought an Alonso can do as he pleases,” Carlos argues.  
  
Fernando feels a chuckle bubble past his lips. “There’s more to being an Alonso than getting your own way all the time,” He ruffles his son’s hair.

* * *

  
  
They’re walking along the grey tarmac of the Spa-Francochamps circuit, the trees standing proudly on either side of the track. It’s strange for Carlos to see it so empty and so quiet, it’s usually filled with masses of fans, with cars tearing through the silence, the rubber embedding into the track.  Carlos is making strange car noises as he runs out in front of Fernando who is taking in his surroundings, mirrored sunglasses firmly on.  
  
“Fernando!” A voice calls out, exasperated. Sebastian appears in view, heavily winded as though he has been running for a long time.  
  
“What’s the matter, Seb?” Fernando asks, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“The Red Bulls, they’re testing them right now, on the track,” Sebastian says with wide blue eyes.  
  
Fernando’s smile melts away. “Seb, get Carlos to the side of the track. I’m calling Stefano right now,” His faces twists as he pulls Carlos over to the side, the familiar sound of the engines roaring into the humid air.  
  
“Papa, can’t I come?” Carlos asks, trying to grab onto his father’s leg.  
  
“No, son,” Fernando replies curtly as he allows Sebastian’s arms to curl around his son and carry him away from his father. Carlos twists around and fights against Sebastian, tears pricking up in the corner of his eyes but Sebastian continues walking over to safety as one of the Red Bull roars past him. Carlos stiffens at the sight of the car, burying his face into Sebastian’s shirt.  
  
“I never get to go anywhere,” Carlos mutters.  
  
“One day, principe, you will be the king of these circuits, then you will do as your father does,”

* * *

  
  
“Uncle Mark?” Carlos asks, his hand dancing over the shiny paintwork of Mark’s Red Bull, sitting in the garage.  
  
Mark eyes the young Spaniard with distaste. It’s unnerving to him sometimes – how much the little boy reminds me of Fernando, reminds him of the child they could have raised together. “So your father showed you the entire kingdom did he?”  
  
“Everything,”  
  
“He hasn’t showed you the far reaches of the kingdom though?”  
  
“No, he said I couldn’t go there,” Carlos says, pouting and folding his arms.  
  
Mark feels the grin brush over his lips. “He’s _absolutely_ right. You can’t go there, only the bravest people can go there,”  
  
“But Uncle Mark, I am brave,” Carlos says, puffing out his chest and trying to look older than his six years.  
  
“I don’t doubt that, Carlos. But I can’t tell you, your father would never forgive me,” Mark says, leaning on the side of his car.  
  
“I don’t care what my dad thinks, I won’t tell him anything, I promise!” Carlos pleads.  
  
“Eau Rouge is no place for a young prince like yourself, the most dangerous chicane in racing-“ Mark begins, fighting to keep the smirk from his face.  
  
“Eau Rouge, the most dangerous chicane?” Carlos’s dark eyes – Fernando’s eyes – light up.   
  
“Oh,” Mark says, feigning surprise. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Just do me a favour, promise me you’ll never meet that dreadful place?” He pulls the six year old closer, ruffling the dark curls.  
  
Carlos hesitates for a moment. “Of course not, Uncle Mark,”  
  
Mark smiles as his fingers dance through Carlos’s dark curls. “Good to hear, now run along, let’s make sure that Eau Rouge stays our little secret,”  
  
Carlos nods and Mark watches the six year old leave, the smirk still dancing on his face.

* * *

  
  
Carlos ends up wandering over to the other side of the Red Bull garage where he spots his best friend having his hair combed into place by his father.  
  
“Dany!” Carlos says, grinning widely at the sight of his best friend.  
  
Dany winces, opening one hazel-green eye as his father drags the comb through his unruly hair. “Hello, Carlos,”  
  
“I heard about this really great place,” Carlos says, excitedly.  
  
“That’s great, Chili, but I’m kind of in the middle of getting my hair brushed,” Dany says through clenched teeth.  
  
“I’m almost done, you can’t walk around the paddock with your hair standing up on end Daniil,” Christian says, shaking his head as he finally passes the comb through one more time.  
  
“So what’s this cool place?” Dany asks, his hand clasping around Carlos’s.  
  
Carlos glances up at Christian before his eyes meet his best friend’s. “It’s around…the Mercedes garage,”  
  
“Pascal’s daddies garage? We always go there, Chili, what’s so cool about it?” Dany whines, rolling his eyes.  
  
“I’ll show you when we get there,” Carlos whispers under his breath.  
  
Dany’s expression changes to one of realisation. “Oh,” He whispers. “Daddy, can I go with Carlos to the Mercedes garage to play with Pascal?”  
  
Christian glances at his son for a moment, pretending to consider the statement. “I suppose it’s alright-“ He begins. “If Sebastian goes with you,”  
  
Dany and Carlos stop dead, their faces twisting with confusion. “Why do we have to take Sebastian with us?”  
  
“Because you’re both still young and you need someone to keep you out of trouble,” Christian smiles knowingly.  
  
Dany and Carlos groan under their breath.

* * *

  
  
“C’mon then you two lovebirds,” Sebastian teases the pair lightly. “The quicker we get to the Mercedes garage, the quicker we can get back,”  
  
“Lovebirds?” Carlos says, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”  
  
“One day, I think that your fathers want you two to marry,” Sebastian says, smirk playing on his lips.  
  
“I can’t marry Dany,” Carlos argues. “He’s my _best friend_ ,”  
  
“Well, it’s tradition, I’m afraid,” Sebastian continues, his grin wider. “It goes back generations,”  
  
“Well, when I’m king of the paddock, that tradition will be one of the first to go,” Carlos says, grinning at Dany.   
  
“Not whilst I’m around, short stack,” Sebastian teases. “Only the king can tell me what to do,”  
  
“Carlos is the future king though,” Dany points out.  
  
“You’ll have to do what I say,” Carlos says, grinning widely.  
  
“Not yet, I don’t,” Sebastian says, shaking his head. “Right now, you’d be a pretty poor king, what changes would you make?”  
  
“I’d make sure that there was lots of chocolate milkshakes for me and Dany at every race-“ Carlos begins as his fingers wind around Dany’s. “I’d make sure there were no boring rules anymore,”  
  
Sebastian’s eyes widen in worry. “Boys, where are you going-“  
  
Carlos begins to run down the length of the pit lane, Dany running alongside him. “We’re going to explore all the places Daddy said we couldn’t-“  
  
Dany chuckles under his breath as he follows Carlos, dashing the length of the pit lane, straight past the Mercedes garage. Their trainers skid over the asphalt as they giggle, watching as Sebastian disappears behind a crowd of people moving out of the McLaren garage. The two boys continue to run away, out onto the track, dancing through the trees at the side of the chain-link fence, their fingers are still entwined.  
  
“I bet I can beat you there,” Dany says, defiantly.  
  
“Bet you can’t,” Carlos replies, sticking out his tongue as the boys let go of each other’s hands, picking up speed. His trainers hit the hard asphalt, the laughter bubbling up from his lips as he runs past the trees, they seem to blur before his eyes. However, a familiar sound greets the pair – the sound of an engine roaring in the distance and they stop, gazing at the sight before them – the trees seem to darken as they look over the infamous Eau Rouge corner.  
  
“Wow, I’m a genius,” Carlos whispers as he glances at the sharp corner tearing through the grass, it looks almost normal – almost too quiet – the grass gently moves in the light breeze, the lines of the confines of the track are bright against the asphalt.  
  
“Hey genius, it was my idea,” Dany says, his eyes narrowed. “We’re going to be in big trouble, aren’t we?”  
  
“You aren’t scared, are you, Dany?” Carlos chides, the grin spreading across his face.  
  
“Of course not,” Dany says, folding his arms. “I’ll even run across the track right now,” His hazel-green eyes glances defiantly into Carlos.  
  
“Go on then, I dare you,” Carlos replies, his eyes shining.  
  
Dany’s trainer barely makes it onto the warm asphalt when the two young boys hear a familiar call of anger. Sebastian is striding down the side of the circuit, his eyes dark with anger and his face reddened. “I don’t know what you two were thinking, but we’re going home right this instant!”  
  
“I’m not going anywhere! You can’t make us!” Carlos yells, folding his arms and pouting at the blonde.  
  
“Carlos Sainz, you’ll do as you’re told-“ Sebastian begins but he’s cut off by a familiar roar. His blue eyes widen in worry.  
  
“We have to go, the cars are coming,” He grabs the hands of the two six year olds, pulling them against the chain link fence as the familiar Red Bull glides past.  
  
The two young boys clutch at each other’s hands as they follow Sebastian back to the paddock.  
  
“I thought you were very brave,” Dany whispers, squeezing Carlos’s hand tightly.

* * *

  
  
“I’m very disappointed in you, principe,” Fernando says, his voice is cold.  
  
Carlos bites back a sob and glances at his shoes. He can feel the tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, his cheeks reddening with shame. He dares not to look at his father, he knows that there will be disappointment lingering in his eyes. “You disobeyed me on purpose, Carlos. I told you never to go there, you could have been killed-“  
  
“I just wanted to be brave like you-“ Carlos whispers, his voice cracking slightly. He glances up at his father.  
  
“I’m only brave when I have to be, principe,” Fernando says, his eyes softened by his son’s tears.  
  
“But you’re not scared of _anything_ ,” Carlos says with certainty.  
  
“I was today, principe,” Fernando admits, he bends down, his eyes locking with his son’s as he gently brushes a hand over the unruly dark hair.  
  
“What?” Carlos whispers, his voice full of disbelief.  
  
“I thought I might lose you. Even kings get scared sometimes,” Fernando whispers, worrying his lip.  
  
“I think those cars would be even scareder,” Carlos admits, watching the concern drain away from his father’s face, leaving a small smile as he ruffles his son’s curls.  
  
“Nobody messes with your dad, principe,” Fernando smirks as he catches his son in his arms, tickling him under the armpits. His son squirms against him, squealing slightly.  
  
The pair don’t notice the dark, narrowed eyes watching them, a sneer curling over his lips.  
  
_Foiled, again._

* * *

  
  
“Hey, Papa?” Carlos whispers, sliding into his father’s bed, resting his head against his warm skin. Jenson sleeps soundly by his side.  
  
“What’s the matter principe?” Fernando asks, his voice heavy with sleep.  
  
“We’re friends right?” Carlos asks, his bright brown eyes glancing up at his father, watching him slowly incline his head.  
  
“Of course we are son, why do you ask?”  
  
“And we’ll always be together right?” Carlos presses on.  
  
Fernando raises an eyebrow, carefully pulling his son closer to him. “Let me tell you something my father told me, look at the stars, your family looks down on you and me, they will always be there to guide you through your racing career, as will I.”  
  
“I’m glad, Papa,” Carlos smiles as he cuddles into his father, his eyelids slowly falling shut, exhausted from the events of the day.

* * *

  
  
“I practically gift wrapped those two cubs for you,” Mark roars as he slams his fist on the wooden desk. “And yet you still didn’t get me out in time for me to destroy that cub for good,”  
  
Simon narrows his eyes and glances at the dark haired man. “They weren’t _alone_ , Mark,”  
  
Adrian nods his head. “Exactly. What do you want us to do? Kill Fernando?”  
  
“ _Precisely_ ,” Mark says, his teeth caught in a wide grin. “Stick with me and you will be rewarded, we must be prepared-“  
  
“For what?” Rocky asks, looking quizzical.  
  
“The death of the king,” Mark whispers, his face is lit up from the fire roaring in Christian’s office. “He must be destroyed, he’s winning practically everything, it wouldn’t be fair-“  
  
“Death of the king? Is Fernando sick?” Rocky cuts in.  
  
“No, you fool – we’re going to kill him. Carlos too, for extra insurance. I couldn’t possibly have him taking his father’s place on the grid could I?” Mark says, glancing down at the photo of Fernando holding onto Carlos’s hand – stupid fool, he thinks, we could have had that happy family life together – he tries to imagine his and Fernando’s child – if he would look anything like Carlos.  
  
“Great idea, who needs a king?” Adrian says, rolling his eyes.  
  
“There will be a king, Adrian. _I_ will be king,” Mark roars, grinning widely as he seizes the photo of Fernando and Carlos and throws it into the roaring fire. He watches the ends curl up from the heat; the last thing he sees before he succumbs to the flames is Fernando’s smiling face.

* * *

  
  
They’re in Monza for the next race; it’s sunny and warm, the clouds hang over the horizon, rolling lazily over the blue skies.  Carlos glances at Mark with narrowed eyes as they stop at the old circuit, the one that curves up towards the sky.  
  
“You must wait here, your father has a magnificent surprise for you, Carlitos,” Mark says, letting go of the six year old’s hand, leading him to the middle of the old track – it’s strangely quiet here, there’s not a sound. The trees enveloping the old circuit are silent, the pure white asphalt shining in the early morning light.  
  
“But Uncle Mark,” Carlos says. “What is the surprise?”  
  
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise would it?” Mark says, smile curving over his lips as he glances down at the young boy standing before him – he looks exactly like his father, too much like his father.  
  
“If you tell me, I’ll still act surprised,” Carlos says, folding his arms.  
  
Mark feels a chuckle bubble up. “No no, my dear boy. This is between you and your father, it’s sort of a bonding thing I suppose?”  
  
Carlos glances at Mark with narrowed eyes, they seem to burn into Mark. “Well,” The dark haired man says, moving away towards the clump of trees. “I’d better go and get him,”  
  
“Shouldn’t I come with you?” Carlos asks, glancing around fearfully.  
  
“No, no, you just stay here. We don’t want another mess like the one at Eau Rouge, do we, Carlitos?” Mark says, eyeing the young boy carefully.  
  
Carlos seems to deflate. “You know about that?”  
  
“Carlos, everyone knows about that. Lucky that Papa was there to rescue you eh?” He says, carefully ruffling the dark curls as he moves away. “I’m sure your father will be here soon,” He says, calling over his shoulder. He steps into the trees, the smile slowly creeping back over his face.  
  
“Uncle Mark? Will I like the surprise?” Carlos calls back – he’s sitting down on the circuit, his brown eyes fixed on the group of trees.  
  
“Carlos, it’s to _die_ for,” Mark calls back. “Now those engineers better wait for my signal,” He says to himself as he walks away from the six year old.

* * *

  
  
Carlos watches his uncle disappear through the trees before he glances around, taking in his surroundings. Italy is fairly boring so far – the track is deadly silent, there’s not even a small breeze moving through the trees.  He glances down at the white track and spots a spider crawling over the light surface, he follows it with his finger, sighing in boredom.    
  
“I’m bored, hurry up Dad,” He says to himself.  
  
Unbeknownst to Carlos, on the old Monza circuit, there’s two Red Bulls waiting to race each other. They’re fired up, their engines roar into life, tearing through the quiet of the Italian circuit.

* * *

  
  
“Strange for the Red Bulls to be testing this early in the morning-“ Fernando says, hearing the familiar engine noise rip through the air.  
  
“Fernando, quick! They’re testing Red Bulls on the old racetrack-“ Mark says, out of breath, his worried brown eyes focus on Fernando.  
  
“Mark, why is that a problem-“ Fernando begins.  
  
“Carlos is down there, I overheard him last night saying he was going to go exploring the old track but it didn’t click until Christian said he was doing testing-“ Mark says, not getting to finish his sentence as his ex-lover brushes past him, breaking into a run, worry flooding his face as he calls out his son’s name.  
  
“Carlos!” He yells out, running towards the trees.

* * *

  
  
Carlos doesn’t realise he’s in danger until it’s too late – he watches in horror as two shiny dark blue cars move towards him. He scrambles up off the white asphalt but his trainers seem to slip on the smooth surface. Carlos yells out in a panic as he glances around and decides to run up the steep slope and hang onto the railings at the top. He breathes out a sigh as his trainers stop slipping on the surface and he tries to run up the slope – he can hear the engine roaring closer and closer. He lets out a frightened sob as he reaches forward, reaches out for the metal railing, for safety -  
  
“Carlos!” He hears his father’s voice ring out through the forest. The cars come closer. Carlos closes his eyes and reaches out for the barrier once more, he can feel his trainers slipping against the surface again. He feels his hands curve around the metal as his father darts out of the trees – he’s still wearing his Ferrari overalls as he bounds across the track. He throws Carlos up over the barrier, but as he moves to get himself over the barrier to safety, his trainer slips. His fingers grasp out for the metal but it’s too late, the Red Bull is in sight and it can’t slow down in time – it hits Fernando head on and sends him sprawling down the track.  
  
“Long live the king,” Mark whispers as he watches his ex-lover hit the floor, his brown eyes, the eyes he fell in love with, slowly close.

* * *

  
  
“Papa!” Carlos screams out, unable to see anything through the dust that the brakes of the car had just kicked up. He scrambles up from behind the barrier, the cars continue to drive away – dust swirling around them. “Papa!” Carlos calls again, scrambling over the barrier and dashing down the steep slope. He spots a silhouette through the dust and sprints over to it – it’s his father lying on the asphalt. His eyes are closed and he’s deathly still.  
  
Carlos drops to his knees and presses his face against his father’s cheek. “Papa?” He says, tears springing to the corners of his eyes, they fall on his father’s face but he still does not wake. “Wake up, Papa, we have to go home-“ Carlos’s tone becomes more desperate, the tears flow down his cheeks as he tries again to rouse his father but Fernando’s head slumps weakly to one side. “Help!” Carlos screams, it seems to reverberate over Monza.  “Please help,” Carlos whispers as he slumps down next to his father’s body.  
  
The king is dead.

* * *

  
  
“Carlos, what have you done?” Mark’s voice appears through the dust; he looks remorseful, his eyes are sad as he takes in the sight of Fernando’s body still lying on the asphalt – he looks peaceful, his eyes are closed, his hair is twisted over his forehead.  
  
“I didn’t mean to, Uncle Mark, it was an accident-“ Carlos whimpers as he glances down at his father. He looks down up at Mark’s grave face.  
  
“Nobody means for these things to happen, but the king is dead, Carlos,” His arms curls around the young boy’s shoulder and glances right into his brown eyes – Fernando’s eyes – “And if it weren’t for you, he’d still be alive,” He watches the young six year old’s face crumble with guilt. “What will Jenson think when he finds out the truth?”  
  
Carlos sniffs and glances up at Mark fearfully. “What am I going to do?”  
  
“Run away, Carlos. Run and never return,” Mark says with an air of finality as he releases the young boy from his embrace and pushes him towards the trees. “You must never come back here,”  
  
He smiles as he watches the young boy disappear into the trees. He glances down at Fernando, still lying on the ground. “If only you’d stayed with me, none of this would have happened my dear,” His fingers curl over Fernando’s still warm face.

* * *

  
  
Mark carefully places his hand over Jenson’s as he glances into the heartbroken blue eyes.  
  
“Fernando’s death was a terrible tragedy, but to lose Carlos, who had only just begun to live-“ Mark’s voice cracks and he dabs at his eyes with a tissue.  
  
“I want to see him-“ Jenson says, shaking his head.  
  
“They advised against it, to remember him the way he was, Jenson. That’s what Fernando would have wanted-“ Mark says softly as he watches the blonde’s knees hit the floor, the grief taking over his entire body. He watches Jenson fall apart and feels the smile creep on his face.  
  
Now shall be his reign, his time as king will begin.

* * *

  
  
Carlos ends up collapsing in the forest, hidden amongst the trees. He glances up at the sun wearily, his eyes beginning to slip shut as he thinks about his father lying on the circuit with his eyes closed, that he’d never hear his father’s voice ever again. He rests his head against one of the tree roots and allows himself to drift into a dreamless sleep…  
  
He’s awoken by a soft, calming voice above him – he startles awake to stare into friendly blue eyes. “Well, what do we have here?”  
  
Carlos jolts upwards glancing into the blue eyes. “No need to be frightened, little one. I’m Mika and my buddy over there is called Schumi,” He kneels down and brushes back the dark curls from the fearful brown eyes. “What are you doing all the way out here, little one?”  
  
“I did something bad, I can never go back-“ Carlos says, glancing down at the floor. “Thanks for all your help,” He moves to pick himself up off the floor, but he sways from exhaustion and collapses against Mika’s soft chest and warm arms.  
  
“Listen, kid,” Mika says gently, brushing back the hair once more. “We just want to help okay?”  
  
“Can you change the past for me?” Carlos asks, looking up at the man with his big brown eyes.  
  
“Look, bad things happen, you can’t do anything about that right?” Mika says, his eyes twinkling.  
  
“I guess you’re right,” Carlos whispers, his eyes beginning to slide shut once more as exhaustion takes over, he slumps in Mika’s arms.  
  
“I know that look,” Schumi says, glancing at the blonde man. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”  
  
“The kid was adamant he doesn’t want to go home, his family could have been awful to him, he’s got some bruises on him,” Mika says as he lifts Carlos into his arms, humming a song under his breath as he carries the young boy away.  
  
“Are you humming Hakuna Matata?” Schumi asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“I might be,” Mika says, grinning widely as he glances down at the sleeping young boy.

* * *

  
  
Sebastian watches from the opposite garage as Mark sprawls on one of his chairs, listening to his music on full blast, his helmet settled on the side.  
  
“Could you bring me a iced soda whilst you’re up, Sebastian?” Mark asks, flipping up his sunglasses to glance at the blonde.  
  
“Fernando would never make me do something like that,” Sebastian mutters under his breath as he grabs a can of cola.  
  
“What was that?” Mark whispers, his face tightening with fury. “You know never to mention that name in my presence-“  
  
“Yes, of course,” Sebastian says, stiffening with fear. “You are the _King_ after all,”  
  
Adrian interrupts the Red Bull pair, looking grave. “Sir, Bernie isn’t happy at all, he’s just done an interview where he says that you’re killing the sport, that there’s nothing left in the kingdom left to conquer, fans are turning away because they find it boring-“ He glances over at Sebastian with an unreadable expression on his face.  
  
“Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about that-“ Mark says evenly.  
  
“Well, we could allow Sebastian to win a race, that would stir things up a little-“  
  
“ _Get out_ ,” Mark says between clenched teeth.

* * *

  
  
Year pass by, and Carlos grows into a young man, hidden from Mark’s eyes – he watches the man take his father’s crown as king of the circuit, watches him dominate track after track, standing on the podium, raising his trophies aloft. Carlos glances at himself in the mirror – looks at his messy jet black hair and at the stubble slowly beginning to grow over his face.  He’s been looked after over the years – nurtured by Mika and Schumi’s love and care, he loves them like he loved his fathers – they are like fathers to him in a way.  They’ve allowed him to kart at the local karting place, it’s small and it’s tatty but Carlos has managed to win every race so far. He loves racing, it makes him feel closer to his father in a way.  
  
“Remember, Carlos,” Schumi says, glancing at him with his ice blue eyes. “Remember to be careful,” He’s kneeling at the side of Carlos’s cart with a serious expression on his face. It’s Carlos’s first race in Italy – the first time he’s been back to the country since – he closes his eyes and glances up at Schumi.  
  
“I’ll try, Schumi,”  
  
“Give them hell,” Mika whispers, winking.  
  
Carlos smiles and slides his visor down.

* * *

  
  
The race is going well and Carlos has slowly moved into the first position when he notices a kart behind him – the rider is wearing a helmet with red, white and blue stripes on it – it’s the only thing Carlos notices as the kart moves closer to him. He curses under his breath, his foot hitting the accelerator as he tries to put a little space between himself and the other kart, braking later into the corner to hit the optimum racing line.  However, the other kart remains with him- close to his own and he grits his teeth, moving over to hit the inside line, over the apex. He smiles slightly as the other driver falls behind for a moment or two.  
  
The crowds pass by him in a blur, he bites his lip, his mouth is dry and he feels the swear pour down, sinking into the padding of his helmet. He brakes hard and fast into the next corner, feeling his heart beat against his ribcage as the other kart bumps his rear. He feels the car move slightly, the wheels swerve over the asphalt but he manages to correct the swerve, his fingers holding onto his steering wheel tightly as he brakes into the final chicane and powers down the straight towards the finish line. He manages to hold off the other kart to the finish line, feeling the relief wash over him. The race is over and he’s won it.  
  
It’s not until they arrive back at the paddock area that he strides over to the other kart driver, intent on giving him a lecture about clean driving when he sees the red, white and blue helmet peel off the driver’s face – he’s older, but there’s no doubt who it is.  
  
“Dany?” Carlos whispers, unable to tear his glance away from the young man who was once his best friend.  
  
Dany looks up at that moment and looks straight into dark brown eyes. “Carlos?” He whispers, his helmet dropping to the floor.

* * *

  
  
“It’s great to see you,” Dany whispers as he throws himself into Carlos’s arms, unable to keep the smile from creeping up onto his face, his fingers dance over Carlos’s hips.  
  
“It’s great to see you too,” Carlos whispers, taking in the scent of his best friend. “I missed you-“  
  
“Carlos? Who is your new friend?” Mika’s voice cuts in. The two teenagers tear themselves apart, blush dancing at their cheeks as they survey the man before them.  
  
“Mika, this is my best friend from years ago, this is Daniil Kvyat,”  
  
“Daniil, this is Mika, and the guy behind him is Schumi, they’ve been looking after me,”  
  
“Wait until everyone finds out that you’ve been alive this entire time! And Jenson…what is he going to think?” Dany says, his hazel-green eyes fixing on Carlos.  
  
“He doesn’t have to know, Dany. Nobody has to know,” Carlos whispers through gritted teeth.  
  
“Of course they do, Chili,” Dany says, rolling his eyes. “Everybody thinks you’re dead, that’s what Mark said,”  
  
“What?” Carlos says, his brown eyes are wide. “What else did he tell you?”  
  
“It doesn’t matter, Chili. You’re alive and that means… _you’re_ the king,”  
  
“King?” Mika asks, raising an eyebrow. “Wait, I remember…Fernando, he was the king years ago, there was an accident, are you-“  
  
“That was a long time ago,” Carlos says, folding his arms. “I was going to be, but that was a long time ago,”  
  
There’s silence between the pair.  
  
“Maybe you should go,” Carlos says quietly.  
  
Dany glances at his best friend with a hurt expression. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”  
  
Carlos hesitates for a moment before he follows Dany away. Mika and Schumi look on with raised eyebrows.  
  
Dany glances at Carlos with sorrowful eyes. “Look, it’s like you’re back from the dead,” He says quietly, biting his lip. “You don’t know what I’ve been through, what it will mean to everyone, to Jenson, to _me_ -“  
  
“It’s okay,” Carlos whispers, his fingers reaching out to grasp Dany’s.  
  
“I missed you,” Dany admits, tears pricking at the corners of his hazel eyes.  
  
“I missed you too,” Carlos whispers.

* * *

  
  
“I can see what’s happening,” Schumi says, smiling widely at the sight of Carlos and Dany standing together, their hands clasped.  
  
“What?” Mika asks, quizzically.  
  
“They don’t have a clue,” Schumi continues.

* * *

  
  
Later that evening, Carlos is lying down next to Dany on the damp, dewy grass, staring up at the stars twinkling above them.  
  
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Dany whispers, afraid to disturb the night. “I never gave up hope that you’d died, why don’t you go back and see Jenson?”  
  
“I can’t, Dany, you _know_ that, you know what happened-“  
  
“Why don’t you enlighten me? Look, we really needed you back at home,”  
  
“Nobody needs me,” Carlos says under his breath.  
  
“Yes, we do, you’re supposed to be the king. The sport is in tatters, Carlos. No young drivers progress anymore, Mark has everything under his control. Fans don’t come to the races anymore, they’ve stopped watching on the television because it’s too predictable-“  
  
“And that’s my fault?” Carlos yells back, his face tightening with anger.  
  
“What’s happened to you? You’re not the Carlos I remember,” Dany says, his eyes sad.  
  
“You’re right, I’m not. Are you satisfied now?” Carlos huffs, glaring at his best friend.  
  
“I’m just disappointed,” Dany says quietly.  
  
“You’re starting to sound like my father,” Carlos says, anger tearing up inside his chest.  
  
“At least one of us does,” Dany utters as he walks away.

* * *

  
  
Carlos kicks away a stone in anger as he watches Dany walk away from him, disappointment crushes down over his chest as he glances into the pool before him – glances at his features, at his dark caramel coloured skin and his dark brown eyes. He closes his eyes, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.  
  
“I wish you were here, Papa, to tell me where to go,”  
  
He opens his eyes again and glances at his own reflection, but his own brown eyes stare back at him from the pool. Another tear runs away from his face.  
  
“I knew it wouldn’t work,” He whispers to himself.  
  
“Carlos,” A familiar voice seems to say. Carlos stiffens as he glances back into the pool; his face morphs into a familiar one, lines appear around the identical brown eyes, the hair lightens slightly. His father’s face glances back to him from the pool.  
  
“Papa-“ Carlos whispers. “How can it be?”  
  
“Carlos, I live in _you_. But you seem to have forgotten me-“ Fernando says, glancing at his son with his wise eyes.  
  
“How could I?” Carlos whispers.  
  
“You have forgotten who you are, principe,” Fernando booms. “And so you have forgotten me. Look inside yourself, principe, you are more than what you have become,”  
  
“How can I go back? I’m not who I used to be,” Carlos says.  
  
“Remember who you are, Carlos.” Fernando says, his face fading away from the pool, leaving Carlos peering at his own visage.  
  
“No! Don’t leave me! Father, please-“ Carlos pleads, glancing over the still water at his own reflection.  
  
“ _Remember_ ,” Fernando’s voice echoes through his ear for one final time.  
  
“I have to go back,” Carlos whispers to himself, glancing up at the stars.

* * *

  
  
Carlos crosses over the desolate land – Monza looks similar to when Carlos last saw it – only the sky is grey and the fog envelopes over the grass, turning it grey. The garages are still alive with people as they once were, but they seem reserved, they almost know it’s pointless to challenge the might of the Red Bull, held by Mark’s iron fist. There’s whispers around the paddock – whispers that the King has returned, risen from the dead to take back his throne.  
  
Dany spots the familiar looking figure walking through the paddock and his eyes widen. “You came back,”  
  
“I didn’t want to believe you,” Carlos whispers, glancing up at the stands – they’re empty and devoid of fans. It’s an alien concept to Carlos – he’s used to the Tifosi enveloping the stands in a sea of red, but there’s nothing left – the heart ripped away from racing, he glances back at Dany. “I got some sense talked into me,”  
  
Dany smiles. “I’m glad you came back,”  
  
Carlos smiles back. He spots Mika and Schumi moving down the paddock, drawing the press away from Carlos, the attention is solely on them as they walk together, talking casually to one another.

* * *

  
  
“Jenson!” Marks voice rips through the noise in the stands. Carlos moves closer, his dark eyes narrowing at the man’s tone of distaste.

“Yes, Mark?” Jenson sounds almost bored.  
  
“You’re not doing your job properly. Where are the crowds? Where are the masses of people?” Mark says, angrily gesturing at the empty stands.  
  
“They’re gone, Mark, they’re gone like we should have gone a long time ago, “ Jenson says tiredly.  
  
“We’re never leaving, Jenson. I’m the King and I can do whatever I want,” Mark declares, glancing around at the paddock.  
  
“If you were half the man that Fernando was, you would never-“ Jenson doesn’t get to finish his sentence as Mark’s eyes glow darker and he raises his hand to slap Jenson across the face.  
  
“I’m ten times the king that Fernando Alonso was,” He spits, his eyes almost dark with fury as Jenson glances at him with horror, holding onto his cheek slowly reddening under his fingers.  
  
“Stop,” Carlos yells out and Mark visibly stiffens as he glances around.  
  
“Fernando? It can’t be-“ He begins, paling. Carlos steps out of the shadows, his brown eyes fixed on Jenson who is still holding his cheek.  
  
“Father,” He says carefully, glancing up at Jenson. “I’m sorry,”  
  
“Carlos, you’re alive,” Jenson whispers, his blue eyes widening. “How can that be?”  
  
“It doesn’t matter now, I’m home,” He whispers before turning to face Mark with a look of anger.  
  
“Carlos?” Mark says, narrowing his eyes. “I’m a little surprised to see you alive,”  
  
“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t destroy you right now,” Carlos cuts in, his voice is blunt.  
  
“Oh, Carlos,” Mark pastes on his best winning smile. “You must understand, the pressures of ruling a kingdom-“  
  
“Are no longer yours.” Carlos cuts in. “Now step down gracefully, Mark,”  
  
Mark smiles once more. “There’s one slight problem,” He simpers, indicating the press still following Mika and Schumi around. “They still think I am king,”  
  
“Well, we don’t,” Dany pipes up, he’s surrounded by other drivers from the grid all staring at Mark with looks of disgust. “Carlos is the rightful king,”  
  
“Why must things end in this way? I’d hate for something terrible to happen again, wouldn’t you?” Mark says, grin widening over his face.  
  
“It’s not going to work, Mark. I’ve put that behind me,” Carlos says, his gaze unwavering.  
  
“But have your faithful subjects put it behind them?” Mark asks, his voice still steady.  
  
“Carlos, what is he talking about?” Dany asks, confused.  
  
Mark’s grin widens. “Ahh, so you haven’t told them about your little secret, now is the perfect time. Tell them who is responsible for Fernando’s death,”  
  
“I am,” Carlos says, voice like steel. Everyone’s eyes land on him, glancing at Mark with his dark brown eyes, looking exactly like his father before him.  
  
Jenson’s blue eyes fall on Carlos. “Tell me that’s not true, Carlos, please-“  
  
“It’s true,” Carlos whispers, glancing down at his shoes.  
  
“You see!” Mark yells, pointing at the teenager. “He admits it! Murderer!” He stalks around Carlos, his eyes spitting fury.  
  
“It was an accident, I never meant to-“ Carlos says, tears falling down his cheeks.  
  
“If it weren’t for you, Fernando would still be alive,” Mark continues to pace. “It’s your fault, do you admit it?”  
  
“No,” Carlos says, closing his eyes.  
  
“You’re guilty,” Mark says quietly.  
  
“No, I’m not a murderer,” Carlos says, gritting his teeth. He’s backed up against the wall with nowhere to go  
  
“Oh, Carlos, you’re in trouble again,” Mark whispers. “But this time, Daddy isn’t here to save you,” He grins as Carlos moves further back, only to find himself at the end of the stand.  
  
“Hmmm,” Mark whispers in Carlos’s ear. “This looks familiar, I’m sure your father was wearing a similar look of fear when he died,”  
  
Carlos looks at him with hate filled eyes. “Do you want to know my little secret, principe?” Mark whispers, his eyes like liquid obsidian. “I killed Fernando,”  
  
Carlos’s eyes widen, his scream blends with that of his father’s as he tumbled down the white asphalt a few yards away – and he lunges at the older man, his fingers clawing at the tanned arms.  
  
“Murderer!” He screams out, his eyes dark with anger.  
  
“No, Carlos, please-“ Mark says, visibly frightened by Carlos’s anger.  
  
“Tell them the truth,” Carlos says, his voice steady. “Right now,”  
  
“I…I killed Fernando,” Mark whispers, his dark eyes still flickering with anger and fear. “I did it,”  
  
The drivers all glance at Mark with hatred – unable to comprehend what their king had done. They all stare at the young man, so much like his fallen father, with his twisted, unruly curls and his dark brown eyes.  
  
“Please, Carlos,” Mark pleads, glancing up at the young teenager. “Please, it was all Adrian’s idea-“  
  
“Why should I believe you? Everything you ever told me was a lie,” Carlos spits, angrily.  
  
“What can I do to prove myself to you?” Mark asks, his eyes still watery.  
  
“Run away,” Carlos says with an air of finality. “And never return,”  
  
The crowd of drivers cheer.

* * *

  
  
It’s a year on. Nobody has heard anything of Mark, they presume he’s back in Australia, biding his time and keeping his head low. The circuits are filled with screaming crowds once more. Carlos looks once more over the large crowds filling the stands of Monza, over the tifosi who have returned from years of exile – there’s nothing but a sea of red before him. He spots Mika and Schumi walking through the paddock and he smiles. A hand brushes over his own and glances up into familiar hazel green eyes.  
  
“Well, are you scared?” Dany asks him, he’s already dressed in his red overalls, his thumb stroking over Carlos’s hand.  
  
“Of course not,” Carlos admits, zipping up his red Ferrari overalls. “I’m _home_ ,”


End file.
